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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27366682">A Recovery of Witches</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bet_on_black/pseuds/Bet_on_black'>Bet_on_black</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Addiction, Alternate Universe - Post-War, Andromeda is a stoner, Cissamione, Drug Use, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/F, Post-War, Rating May Change, Recovery, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:54:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,679</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27366682</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bet_on_black/pseuds/Bet_on_black</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has their own way of dealing with the events of the war. Some of them not as great as others. </p><p>Narcissa and Andromeda decide, after months of living with each other's questionable coping mechanisms, to attend a Addicts Anonymous meeting. </p><p>Hermione Granger has her own demons to fight and it's not a fight she's winning. But being confronted with the woman who watched her suffer at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange and an all too similar looking witch was not how she anticipated dealing with her demons.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>115</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. You Have A Problem</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A year ago waking up to find a veritable bush of brown hair in her face might have truly horrified Narcissa. But now, in the early light of morning, there was no finer sight she could imagine in all the world. The witch beside her stirred and rolled over, nuzzling her face into Narcissa’s neck with a sleepy “Mornin’ Cissy.”</p><p> </p><p>The blonde witch found herself smiling fondly and placed a tender kiss into the nest of brown curls. Her hand danced lightly over the stretch of bare skin between Hermione’s top and her pyjama bottoms. She could feel the witch smiling against the skin of her neck and was met by a mischievous whisper of “You’re insatiable, you know that?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>Thirteen months earlier</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“You have a problem, you know that, right?” Andromeda said, taking another drag from the spliff.</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa wrinkled her nose as her sister exhaled the foul smelling smoke through her nostrils, doing a passable imitation of a dragon in a wig. “Do you have to smoke that horrid stuff in my study?” she asked haughtily, unable to keep the look of disgust from her usually neutral face.</p><p> </p><p>“This is my way of coping.” Her sister replied, tucking the still smouldering thing behind her ear, and observing Narcissa with bored smoky eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Coping with what exactly?” Narcissa replied with a cough, shifting in her seat as though moving a millimetre to the left would suddenly remove the smell from her nostrils.</p><p> </p><p>“You being such a cow all the time.”</p><p> </p><p>Had Narcissa had her wand to hand she might have incinerated her sister then and there. Sometimes, especially lately it seemed, she was so infuriatingly like Bella it hurt. Instead, she spat back with a barbed tongue. “I wouldn’t be such a cow if you didn’t just <em> invite </em> yourself to stay for a week and still be here <em> months later </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>If the words stung at all Andromeda didn’t show it. She didn’t seem to show a lot of things these days other than a vague smugness when she smoked in Narcissa’s presence. She merely rolled her eyes and slouched a bit further in her armchair.</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda had rocked up one day a few months after the war had ended, her life’s possessions stuffed roughly into an old muggle suitcase with a temperamental extension charm. Narcissa sometimes wondered if the charm had failed the moment Andromeda had taken up residence in one of the spare rooms or if it had lasted a few days longer. It <em> had </em> eventually failed though, judging by the state of the room on Narcissa’s last visit. Clothes were scattered across the room as though they’d been hit by a grenade. Books littered the floor and all other available flat surfaces. And she didn’t even want to <em> think </em> about the state of the en suite…</p><p> </p><p>The Manor was, thankfully, large enough so that they didn’t often cross paths but on the rare occasions they did it was tense like this. Andromeda would wander into whatever space Narcissa was occupying and throw herself down on the nearest available soft furnishing with as loud a flump as possible, so as to draw Narcissa’s attention away from whatever task she was undertaking. She was frequently met with a piercing glare from cold blue eyes or a frustrated huff as a quill clattered to the desk. Words were rarely said. Andromeda always found that her mere presence was enough to throw Narcissa off kilter and that amused her on a much deeper level than it ought to have.</p><p> </p><p>“Someone is extra angsty today…” Andromeda muttered with a smirk. “Should I pour you another wine, sister dearest?”</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa pinched the bridge of her nose and resisted the urge to refill the glass on her desk. She would not give in to her sister’s prodding.</p><p> </p><p>“But yes, as I was saying… You have a problem and I think it’s about time we address the Erumpent in the room.”</p><p> </p><p>“My problem…” Narcissa began through gritted teeth. “Is that my sister won’t leave me alone. Is that the issue you’d like to discuss today, Andromeda?”</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda took another slow drag of her spliff and purposefully blew the cloud of smoke towards her very tense looking sister. A toothy grin slipping into place at the look on Narcissa’s face when the smoke floated into her face. “Oh we both know that whilst I’m a general annoyance to you, I’m not your problem. For you see, Cissy dearest!” She groaned as she leant over the side of chaise longue she was sprawled on and rolled out three empty green wine bottles from underneath. “This. This is your problem. And you’re managing this problem so poorly that not even the House Elves can keep up with you!”</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa’s face, still wrinkled from the smell of Andromeda’s chosen smoking mix, scrunched even further in on itself. “The House Elves,” she said tensely, “are not permitted to tidy in this room after one of them threw out an ancient and very <em> rare </em> set of scrolls I was studying.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm…” Andromeda hummed to herself and rolled another bottle out so that it clinked against the others, causing Narcissa to flinch further. “Methinks the witch doth protest too much…”</p><p> </p><p>The clinking of the bottles and Andromeda’s sing-song voice that reminded her all too much of their other, long dead, sister sent her overboard. Narcissa stood abruptly and marched across the room to a cabinet by floor to ceiling window. She wrenched the door open with a bit too much force, causing the contents to tinkle merrily, and took out a deep green bottle filled with an even darker liquid. “You are insufferable, you realise that, don’t you? I’m practically driven to drink by your mere presence! So, Andromeda, <em> dearest </em> . If I do have a drink problem, as you’re so subtly suggesting, it’s entirely because of my <em> YOU </em> problem!”</p><p> </p><p>Burgundy liquid sloshed into the wine glass on her desk and she gripped the glass with pale, shaking fingers. She took a deep gulp before adding “Whatsmore, you’re being thoroughly hypocritical lecturing me about addictions when you won’t stop filling my Manor with your foul smelling drugs!”</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda choked on her own smoke as she laughed at her sister’s indignation. “Excuse me, I can quit any time I like!”</p><p> </p><p>“So can I!”</p><p> </p><p>“Prove it.” Andromeda clicked her fingers and a leaflet popped into existence between them. “There’s an Addicts Anonymous meeting this Tuesday. Come with me and prove you can quit.”</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa snatched at the parchment and frowned, knocking back the rest of her wine in one determined glug. “Fine.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two - Hermione</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What's this? Another chapter? Madness. </p><p>For something I really didn't intend to write the words are coming fast!</p><p>Anyhow, I hope you guys enjoy this next instalment!</p><p>Bet_on_Black</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Soft lips smiled against her own and pressed their advantage until the brunette was on her back with the reassuring weight of Narcissa settling on top of her. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>“Hmm…” The blonde hummed, planting her hands either side of Hermione’s head and leaning in for another burning kiss. “If I’m insatiable, it’s only because you encourage me…” The words come out as a low growl that sent Hermione’s insides squirming in a pleasing way.</em>  </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Her insides were tumbling, doing somersaults and acrobatics far too athletic for anything internal to be performing. She clutched her stomach in the hopes that it would make it stop and pressed her head against the cold tile floor, seeking but not finding any relief. If the world could just stop spinning this whole process would be a lot easier.</p><p> </p><p>The thumping knock on the locked door only made things worse, sending a pulsating throb through her head. “Go away!” She managed to croak out, though the process of doing so felt like a grater was being dragged up her throat.</p><p> </p><p>“C’mon Hermione! You can’t stay in there all day!” Ron’s voice called softly through the door. The door handle moved down but the door would not open, the lock barring the redhead’s entrance.</p><p> </p><p>“I won’t…” She moaned into the tiled floor. “I just need to lie here for a bit, that s’all…” The room was growing dark at long last. Maybe if it got dark enough she could sleep…</p><p> </p><p>“No. No, no no!” Ron muttered to himself. “<em> Alohomora </em>!” the door to the bathroom swung open and he rolled the semi-conscious witch on to her back.</p><p> </p><p>“Nn-ugh…” The room was bright again. Why was it always too bright to sleep? Even when she closed her eyes things were too bright. She flung an arm over her eyes only to have it moved aside again by the persistent redhead. </p><p> </p><p>“Stay with me, ‘Mione! C’mon. You can’t go to sleep right now!” He looked over his shoulder and called out tearfully “HARRY! GINNY! Get in here! She needs help!”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The harsh lights of the ward were painful. More painful than light had any right to be. And the rest of her hurt too. Her very insides felt like they’d been burned, healed and then burned again. It was just such a raw feeling and she wanted desperately for it to stop.</p><p> </p><p>“Ms Granger?” A small voice to the right asked. “Can I get you more pain relief?”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione groaned and nodded her head, eager for any relief. </p><p> </p><p>The medi-witch prised open her eyelids and shone a lit wand in, making Hermione wince. Then there were fingers on her wrist, holding her there for a minute or more. At last, a potion was pressed to her mouth and she swallowed gratefully. </p><p> </p><p>It was a blessed relief to feel the cool liquid race down her throat and into her belly. </p><p> </p><p><em> Finally. Something that doesn’t hurt </em>.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“She can’t stay here forever, Mr Weasley. Someone needs to take care of her and we just simply don’t have the capacity to continue doing so here. Medically speaking she’s fine. She just needs time to recover. There’s an out-patient clinic she can attend though. To help with weaning her off the potions.”</p><p> </p><p>“I want to help… I do! It’s just… She needs full time supervision if she’s gonna kick it and I have work… Is there nowhere else she could go?”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s one place… But it really would be a last resort, Mr Weasley. I have to stress that. You wouldn’t be able to see her, speak to her… The only people she would see are other residents and the staff. Her only contact with the outside world, the group therapy meetings.”</p><p> </p><p>A beat passed. The silence heavy.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing though. Her not seeing me. I only seem to make it worse… Not better.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The house was a grand white thing, clearly something wondrous in its heyday but now the paint has dulled and the marble pillars are chipped at the base. The steps, whilst clean, were clearly worn up the centre from years of steady footfall in and out. Clearly this place had been used by a great many witches and wizards over the years, though perhaps not for the purpose that it’s used for now.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione eyed the building up warily. She really didn’t like this idea. An institution. Of course, Ron was right, he couldn’t possibly be there all the time to make sure she didn’t do anything silly but this…? It just seemed like a very big leap. </p><p> </p><p>She clutched tightly to the small bag of possessions she was allowed to bring with her. Just a few clothes, some toiletries that would have to be checked over by the personnel inside, and one solitary book. She had wanted to bring more, obviously, but they had made it abundantly clear that she was only allowed one. So naturally, she had chosen one of the bigger books, an old favourite that never seemed to disappoint - <em> Hogwarts: A History </em>.</p><p> </p><p>A wizard in white overalls smiled kindly at her, though his smile didn’t quite seem to meet the eye, and directed her inside. She took one last look behind her at Ron’s gangly figure stood by the family car. He gave her a wave, hand falling as she turned back round to enter the building, and visibly deflating as she disappeared into the building.</p><p> </p><p>“Right this way, Ms Granger. I’ll show you to your room and we can go over the schedule for your stay.” The man who, though dressed like an orderly, carried himself like an old school pureblood. If she didn’t know any better she’d say he had the confidence of a Death Eater. He walked her through a large, echoing atrium, chatting away as they walked, though only half the words seemed to reach her ears.</p><p> </p><p>“...hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us, Ms Granger. That’s the day room there, that’s where we have our meals and group activities… … we don’t allow any duelling, naturally. We operate on a three strike system before wands are confiscated or modified… … All our staff are fully trained medi-witches and wizards, we have a Healer on hand too if need be… … sometimes have movie nights, you know, like the Muggles do. It’s quite fun actually! Well, this is you, Ms Granger.”</p><p> </p><p>They stopped outside a room in a long thin corridor that appeared to be lined with other, similar, rooms. Inside the room was as white and neutral as everywhere else in the building. The ceiling was high and only added to the empty feeling she gets from the room. There was a double bed with some soft looking pillows, a fireplace with a gentle blue fire in the grate, and a floor to ceiling window that looked out over the long green lawns of the grounds. It was nice enough but it felt clinical and cold at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>Once she placed her bag of things on the bed the wizard launched into his explanation of the schedule, taking great delight in showing her the changing colour codes on the parchment for each day. </p><p> </p><p>“So breakfast is between eight and nine in the morning, along in the day room. Then you’ll have a session with our medi-witch, Hazel Flagworth, she’ll sort you out in terms of medication and outline your process for the duration. She’s lovely, very calm, you’ll like her. Then at ten thirty we have a break for tea and coffee, maybe even a biscuit if Gareth is feeling fancy! Gareth is a volunteer, straight out of Hogwarts, very enthusiastic lad, fancies a career in pharmaceuticals. Not that we let him do any of that here, heavens no! He’s not trained yet. At eleven you have some recreational time, you know, for reading, walks, the like. Lunch is at twelve, again in the day room, usually something tasty! And then one til three is our group therapy time. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays that’s also in the day room. But on Tuesdays and Thursdays we join up with another group in London for a wider therapy session, keep you in touch with the wider community.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione wasn’t sure how much of this man’s words she took in, her mind was in a haze and it felt like her skin was itching. It was very distracting. She just nodded, letting him ramble on. Surely she’d be able to pick it all up by looking at this piece of flashing parchment he kept pointing at excitedly? She was hardly stupid, after all. Though the longer he went on the less able she felt to concentrate on him or the parchment.</p><p> </p><p>She raised a tentative hand to stop him. “Uhm… Sorry, is there anything else that’s vitally important for me to know? I’d really like to have a lie down. I’m quite tired. The medication, you see.” She offered up with a small smile, hoping she wouldn’t have to explain more.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course!” He grinned at her, tapping his palm off of his head in ‘doh!’ motion. “You must be exhausted. I’ll leave you be for now. But I’ll pop back to let you know when dinner is being served, yes? Don’t worry, you won’t have to participate in the schedule until tomorrow. Give you time to settle in.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.” she said quietly, walking him back to the door and closing it shut behind him. There was no lock so she tried casting a simple “<em> Colloportus! </em>” on the door but nothing happened. It seemed that, lovely as the place tried to make itself seem, there would be no such thing as privacy whilst she was here. </p><p><br/>She walked back across to the bed and lay down, head sinking into the too soft pillows, and sighed. This was going to be a very strange few weeks, for sure...</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A bit more dramatic a chapter here...</p><p>I'm currently in the middle of writing the next chapter (Addicts Anonymous) but I'm not sure when I'll have it finished and ready to post because work is hella hectic right now. But I will be back!</p><p>Now go on, leave me a comment, it might make me write faster ;)</p><p>Bet_on_Black</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three - Addicts Anonymous</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Narcissa rolled to the side, panting from her efforts and gazed lovingly at the brunette before her. She kissed her forehead softly. “You are absolutely exquisite, love.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione grinned, her eyes drifting down the length of Narcissa with desire. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I clearly have perfection lying right here next to me.” She leant in and captured the blonde’s lips expertly, sliding her tongue in as the lips parted for her. When she came back up for air her eyes were filled with mischief. “When I’m done with you you’re not even going to know your own name, Narcissa Black…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought the whole point of Addicts Anonymous was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>anonymous</span>
  </em>
  <span> part…” Narcissa murmured into her hand as Andromeda hollered loudly at a witch she knew and walked across to the table where urns of tea and coffee were sat next to paper cups. She let her eyes sweep the room, mentally noting down any notable persons, and quickly decided that this was not the meeting for her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With fast yet smooth steps she started to make her way back towards the exit, only to walk straight into a mound of bushy brown hair under which sit sad looking amber eyes. She staggered back with a “Good heavens, excuse me!” and stepped to the side, allowing the witch she had nearly toppled to enter and take her own furtive look around the room. She seemed familiar but Narcissa can’t quite place it. Not that it matters as she was leaving anyway. Once the bushy haired woman and her similarly dressed compatriots have all filed in (</span>
  <em>
    <span>are they part of a cult or something?</span>
  </em>
  <span>) she attempted to leave again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This time she was stopped by a squeal of terror behind her and instinct had her wand in her hand at once, ready to perform any number of defensive spells as necessary. There was no obvious danger but the bushy haired woman she had bumped into had turned into a bubbling wreck and was pointing a trembling finger across the room at Andromeda, who had successfully managed to spill coffee all down the front of her black dress. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then it twigged. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The bushy haired witch was none other than Hermione Granger. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Narcissa’s need to flee only intensified and she began edging towards the door once more, careful not to make any noise and draw the attention of the blubbering muggleborn. The last thing she needed was for the younger witch to recognise her and have a similar reaction. Andromeda would just have to fend for herself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It all would have gone so well if another figure hadn’t skipped blithely into the room and waved a wand at the door to close it. Faced with a closed door, Narcissa had no option but to turn around and rejoin the group. She only hoped that she could stay out of Ms Granger’s eyeline as much as possible. A feat that would have been much easier had all the chairs in the room not rearranged themselves into a large circle. There really would be no hiding now. Once again she scanned the room as people made to sit down, searching for a suitable person to sit next to, preferably as far away from Andromeda as possible. Partly because she was still drawing attention to herself, flapping at her skirts which were now soaked with coffee, and partly because she couldn’t stand the smell of that hideous herb mix she imbibed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a group of addicts the assembled witches and wizards moved all too fast for her liking. Seats were rapidly filling and she ended up choosing one in a panic, not realising until it was too late that this placed her directly opposite the still shaking witch. Their eyes met over the empty expanse between them, both gazes fearful and unsure. Hermione’s brows furrowed into a frown of confusion or worry, Narcissa wasn’t sure which, but neither witch had much time to ponder on it as the lights in the room dimmed and a short blonde witch stepped forward. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Another familiar face, Narcissa noted, tearing her gaze away from Hermione towards the slim frame of Luna Lovegood. The girl, now a young woman, gazed round the room with a bright smile, swaying on the spot with her hands in the pockets of her dungarees, her wand tucked away in her blonde curls. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hullo everyone! It’s lovely to see so many of you this week. Our old hands will notice that we have a few newcomers today from both St Twyven’s Retreat and our community group too. Perhaps it would be a good idea if we went round the group and introduced ourselves? For those of you who are new, my name is Luna Lovegood and I will be your guide throughout your journey here.” She turned to her right and indicated to the wizard next to her that he should introduce himself next.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shifted in his seat, pulling his tattered suede coat closer to him before standing up and giving a nervous look around the room, his gaze focusing briefly on those who he apparently did not recognise. “‘Lo everyone, I’m Albert Gilston and I’m an addict.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Narcissa rolled her eyes as the rest of the room responded with a school-like chant of “Welcome, Albert.” The longer she was here the more she regretted her decision to come here. Decisions made in anger were always foolish.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good afternoon folks,” an elderly witch took over, standing hunched over but with a crooked smile on her face all the same. “I’m Ellie Fitzsimmons… and I’m an addict.” The group responded with the same inane chant as before, Narcissa bowing her head so that no one would see that she wasn’t joining in with this farcical nonsense.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So it went on, a litany of names and pronouncements of addiction until Narcissa received a rough nudge in her side from the old man beside her. “Oi, blondey, you’re turn.” He grunted at her as he sat down after being welcomed by the group. She flicked her gaze up and saw that many of the group were looking eagerly at her, including her sister a few seats to the left, she must have gone already. With a small huff she pushed herself to her feet and smoothed down the front of her robes and chose a spot on the wall to focus on instead of looking at anyone. “Good afternoon. I am Narcissa Black.” She made to sit down but the old man next to her grunted and looked at her pointedly. Clearly she wouldn’t get away with not saying it the first time round, damn… With a deep breath she resumed staring at the spot on the wall but found her gaze slipping downward as the words came out until she was locked in a deep amber gaze. “...and I’m an.. an addict.” The words came out as a husky whisper and she quickly sat back down as the group chanted back to her. She kept her gaze low, focusing on her shoes, almost afraid to look back up into the amber eyes across the room from her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the group continued and Narcissa kept her eyes to the floor until she heard a chair scrape harshly across the floor. She looked up to see Hermione standing, looking for all the world like she was surrounded by Dementors. The woman was trembling from head to toe, clutching anxiously at the hem of her sleeve and stammering over her words. Clearly she was in the midst of withdrawal, her forehead was coated in a thin shimmer of cold sweat and she couldn’t keep her gaze fixed on any one point. Narcissa was torn between wanting to look away and some instinct, motherly perhaps, to hold the witch’s attention and provide a calming influence for her. In the end, she made herself look at Hermione and felt a pang inside when her gaze was met once more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“M-m-my n-name is Hermione Granger and I’m… I’m… an addict.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as the words were said she rushed to take her seat again but missed the edge and landed flat on her rear. She winced with pain but recovered quickly, scooting back the way and clambering up into her seat. Her face felt hot and she just wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. This whole process was mortifying. First the sight of Andromeda, who looked so very like Bellatrix, sending her into a panic attack. Then having Narcissa sodding Black stare her down during their declarations. And now she had to go and fall on her ass in front of everyone. She just wanted to go home…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think that was rather fun, don’t you?” Andromeda said, bumping the door open with her but, cigarette hanging loosely out the side of her mouth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Narcissa said nothing, marching past her sister with an outstretched arm and a look of concentration on her face. A bottle of wine flew along the corridor and slammed into her open hand, the fingers of which curled tightly around the glass bottle. The cork unstoppered itself from the bottle and a glass materialised in Narcissa’s other hand. She poured herself a glass and brought it to her lips but no wine crossed the threshold.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” She asked pointedly, lowering the glass again, dissatisfied with the look Andromeda was going her way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? We come back from an AA meeting and your first thought is to have a glass of wine?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Narcissa rolled her eyes and continued down the long corridor to her study. This day had already gone on too long and staying in the presence of her sister would only draw it out further. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve had a very tiring day and I don’t need to justify myself to my stoner sister. Don’t think I don’t know what’s in that cigarette, Andromeda! Just because it looks normal doesn’t mean I can’t still smell it!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Andromeda took the cigarette from her mouth and gave it a tentative sniff. Maybe it did whiff a bit… </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah? Well she got to me too, okay! You weren’t the one she was screaming at!” She called after Narcissa, but it was too late. The blonde had retreated into her study and had shut the door behind her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Narcissa took a slow swig from her glass, leaning against the study door with her eyes shut. In a way Andromeda was right. She wasn’t the one that had sent Hermione into a wild public panic. But she almost wished she had. It would have been better than the sorrow and hurt that emanated out of those amber eyes, sinking into her very soul. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She would have taken a full on duel to the death rather than have that sucker punch of silent emotion hit her again.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks so much for the comments, bookmarks and kudoses (kudosi?) so far. They make me happy and inflate my ego :D</p>
<p>I'm part way through chapter four just now so hopefully I'll be back soon with another update!</p>
<p>Bet_on_Black</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. St Twyven's Retreat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Apologies if anyone got a notification for this chapter going up earlier, I was an idiot and missed out an entire section of the chapter when I first posted.</p>
<p>I am an idiot.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re being ridiculous.” The blonde crossed her arms and feigned annoyance at the brunette grinning at her from the bed.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m telling you, Cissy, it’s really important to get the right kind of mattress underneath you. We should test out a few and see!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Narcissa looked around the mattress showroom with a look that might once have been disgust at being surrounded by Muggles, but was now a faint kind of amusement. She wandered over to Hermione and placed her hands on the witch’s shoulders. “You realise we’re witches, Hermione?” she whispered into the brunette’s ear. “We can make anything work for us.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione looped her arms behind Narcissa, pulled her close and nipped lightly at Narcissa's exposed neck. “Yes… But isn’t it more fun to test these things out?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The pillows were too soft. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was a ridiculous complaint, of course, but that didn’t change the fact that she couldn’t sleep when she was almost suffocating in pillows that seemed to consist of marshmallow wrapped in cotton. Her skin was itching again too, like it had been scratched by Bowtruckles and the skin left to knit itself back together again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How was anyone meant to sleep like this?!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She sat up in the bed and brought her knees close to her chest, hugging them tight. It wasn’t that the retreat was </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> as such. It just wasn’t what she felt she needed right now. But she shouldn’t be thinking about that. What she wanted was not what she needed. She just needed to keep reminding herself of that. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With an outstretched hand she summoned </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hogwarts: A History</span>
  </em>
  <span> to the bed and opened the massive book in front of her. If she couldn’t sleep then she would read. That would do for now. She flicked through the pages, looking for a chapter to settle on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Chamber of Secrets is a big no-no, obviously…” Hermione muttered to herself. “Same goes for the Founders… Anything relating to Slytherin actually...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’d had more than enough in the way of Slytherins in her day already with the unexpected appearance of the two remaining Black sisters. The thought of the pair of them made her face contort itself into a frown. Of all the people to run into on her first day of therapy why did it have to be them??</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her face still flushed at the thought of her reaction to seeing Andromeda and thinking she was Bellatrix. Of course, Harry had had a similar reaction to seeing Andromeda once, but that had been during the war. At least Bellatrix had still been alive then for him to confuse the pair! Hermione’s reaction… Well it had just been sheer panic. She had seen the hair, the dark eyes, even the flowing black dress and her brain had frozen, her heart stopped dead at the sight. As soon as she’d screamed in terror and Andromeda had spilt coffee down herself she’d realised her mistake. Andromeda was like a Boggart version of Bellatrix. All the looks but none of the fierce menace the dark witch had possessed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If it had just been Andromeda, Hermione felt like she might have fared better. At least after that she might have been able to calm herself down. But then Narcissa had been there too. All cold and imperious with that look on her face that made it look like she’d just stepped in shit. When their eyes had met over the meeting that afternoon Hermione had been shaken to her very core, sending her into another meltdown that she would rather forget. Looking into those ice blue eyes had taken her right back to that night at Malfoy Manor, filled her with that same terror she had felt all those years ago.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t do it again. No. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>do it again. They surely couldn’t make her go to the community therapy sessions? She’d attend the ones here. But she wouldn’t go back into London to be faced with the Black sisters again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“First of all, Mother. I want you to know how proud I am of you for seeking help. It’s an important first ste-” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can stop with that positive affirmation nonsense, Draco.” Narcissa cut him off with a withering look as she ran a slender finger up the stem of her wine glass. “I neither want it nor need it. I just want to know what on earth the girl was doing there.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you it was pointless, Draco…” Andromeda’s airy voice sounded from the sofa she was stretched out on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Draco’s nose wrinkled at the cloud of purplish smoke that rose up from the cushions. He was never going to get the smell out of those now. He turned to his mother with a questioning raised eyebrow that asked </span>
  <em>
    <span>why did you bring her here?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Narcissa, ever able to read her son’s face like a book, took a sip of her wine and replied “I could hardly leave her in the Manor, Draco. She’d set the place on fire trying to light one of her ‘cigarettes’.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I resent that insinuation!” A voice called from behind the cloud of smoke.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Narcissa’s jaw clenched as she threw a glare at the cloud. “It’s not an insinuation if it </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>happened, Andromeda!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The cloud of smoke and its occupant shifted from the sofa, only Andromeda’s torso and legs visible below it, and wandered towards the sitting room door. “Where’s your kitchen, Draco? I’m rather peckish all of a sudden.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Draco threw his mother a look that suggested he would be having words with her about this later before directing his aunt “Down the hall and third door on your right. Please don’t upset the house elves though. Poggy is still recovering from your last visit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If it was at all possible for a cloud of smoke to flounce then that was exactly what Andromeda and her cloud did as she exited the room, leaving mother and son alone at last. Narcissa was first to speak again after letting the silence sit between them for a moment or two.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well what?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Narcissa let out an exasperated sigh. “Why is Hermione Granger attending an Addicts Anonymous group in the middle of London on a Tuesday afternoon?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How the bloody hell am I meant to know? What do I look like? A Weasley?!” Draco threw his hands up in the air. Between Andromeda stinking out his house and his mother asking ridiculous questions he was losing the will to live.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t speak to me like that!” Narcissa snapped.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well really, Mother! How </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> I meant to know? I’m hardly bosom buddies with her now am I? In what world am I meant to know about the movements of a Mudbloo-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t say that!” Narcissa said in a harsh whisper, feeling her jaw clench again. “It’s beneath us to use such terms these days.” She added quickly, concentrating very hard on the red smudge her lipstick had left on the rim of the wine glass.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Draco threw her a curious look but decided to let the matter slide for now. He calmed himself and started again. “How would I know where Hermione Granger goes and what she gets up to?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Narcissa’s gaze was still very much fixed on the lip mark on her glass and she took her time to answer him. “You have contacts, Draco.” She said slowly, still not looking at him. “In pharmaceutical potions… I know for a fact they all gossip like clucking hens. Surely they would be able to inform you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her son considered her for a moment, tapping a thoughtful finger against his chin. “I suppose I could…” He said slowly, mulling the notion over. “But it still doesn’t explain why </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> want that information.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If Narcissa was going to respond to her son then she never did get the chance as a loud clatter came from down the hall accompanied by an equally loud crack at Draco’s side. A distressed house elf tugged at Draco’s robes and informed her employer with wide eyes </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“M-M-Master Draco! Madam Tonks tried to help Poggy and Heggy in the kitchen with the pots and is burying Heggy in kitchenware!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh Merlin’s saggy ballsack... Not again!” Draco threw one last look to his mother and grasped Poggy’s slender hand, disappearing to the kitchen with a loud </span>
  <em>
    <span>CRACK!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of gobstones rolling and clunking into one another loudly made Hermione want to curl up in a ball and make the world disappear. She had strongly considered casting a silent </span>
  <em>
    <span>Muffliato </span>
  </em>
  <span>to dull the sound but she wasn’t terribly sure of her magic at that precise moment in time. The tremors had returned about half an hour into that evening’s activities so she had opted to remain sat at the edge of the room watching proceedings. Not that she was particularly interested in the various Gobstones matches happening around the room but she had the feeling that disappearing off to her room wouldn’t be approved of by the staff. They were very much of the opinion that group activity aided recovery more than individual efforts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She closed her eyes and lent her head back, trying to block out the sound of the stones ricocheting off each other by mentally reciting a passage from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hogwarts: A History</span>
  </em>
  <span> regarding magical staircases. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Across it’s seven floors, Hogwarts Castle boasts an impressive one hundred and forty two staircases. The Grand Staircase provides access to all seven floors of the castle and remains, in general, unmoving. Other staircases have a certain sentience to them and can move at will, develop extra steps, invisible steps, and disappear altoget-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A particularly loud CLACK interrupted Hermione’s thoughts and her eyes snapped open to see another resident cheerfully whooping in the soaking wet face of the young volunteer, Gareth, as he wiped the foul smelling liquid the large gobstone had squirted at him from his face. Hermione had been trying to place where she recognised Gareth since she’d first seen him this morning during their morning break. He was a well built young man with short dark hair and kind eyes. She hadn’t spoken to him yet, she had barely spoken to anyone really, but he seemed a decent sort, if a smidge clumsy. In some ways he reminded her of Neville Longbottom but she knew that wasn’t why he seemed familiar. Had their paths perhaps crossed at Hogwarts?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She must have been staring at him because the young man was smiling at her now. Hermione found herself cursing internally when the young man threw in a cheerful wave and gestured towards the now vacant set of Gobstones in front of him. With a small groan she pushed herself up off the plastic chair she’d been sat on and went to sit on the proffered cushion in front of the set gobstones and Gareth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello.” He offered up with a smile. “I don’t think we’ve had a chance to speak yet. I’m Gareth.” He reached out his hand and Hermione took it, giving it a quick shake alongside a hesitant smile. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello Gareth. I’m Her-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No need. I know who you are!” He interrupted her cheerfully. “Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione dropped her gaze to the floor and focused on arranging her gobstones into colour order. She had once loved that nickname but now it felt rather foolish given where she had ended up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not so sure about the last part, Gareth, but yes. I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hermione Granger.” She said quietly, now making sure her gobstones were sat in a perfectly straight line in front of her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m sorry you feel that way, Hermione. Can I call you Hermione? Or would you prefer Ms Granger?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione graced him with a small smile then, finally looking up from her gobstones. “Hermione is fine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Hermione, I get it.” Gareth continued, setting up his own gobstones and motioning that Hermione should make the first move. “This probably isn’t where you imagined yourself to be after the war. But there’s no shame in it, really! After everything you all went through I think it would be a miracle to have come out the other end unscathed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She picked up a dark, almost obsidian coloured gobstone and flicked it towards the middle of the circle between them but apparently gave it too much force as it went sailing right by the large Gobstone in the centre of the circle and rolled into Gareth’s shoe. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s very kind of you to say, Gareth. But it’s not really something I want to talk about.” She glowered down at her shaking hand and quickly folded it under her arm as Gareth made his shot, a much more reasonable one that managed to stay within the circle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The man who showed me where things were the other day… I’m sorry, I can’t remember his name.” Hermione continued, not wanting to sound too abrupt with the young man, but also wanting to change the subject away from her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Eric?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, him.” She nodded, selecting her stone slowly, wishing she could make the tremors stop for just a second. “He said you’re interested in pharmaceuticals. What area?” Her shot flew wide again this time, rolling across to the boundary of another game and she cursed her shaking hand some more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gareth was kind enough to rescue her gobstone and placed it next to her previous one at the side of their game. Once he was seated again he replied “Potion discovery, ideally. You know, creating new potions and the like. I’m not much of a salesman but I’m a dab hand at potions so if I could work in a lab or something similar that would be the dream. I was kind of hoping they’d let me do a bit of experimenting here but…” he shrugged. “I guess it’s not really the right environment for tinkering, is it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had Hermione’s attention now. Her eyes snapped up to take in his face as he considered the game in front of him. “Potion discovery? What kind of potions?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gareth’s attention remained on the game for a moment longer whilst he made his shot, the stone flying smoothly from his fingers to land almost perfectly in the middle of the circle. When he looked up and saw that Hermione was looking at him with a rapt intrigue his face morphed into a sad smile. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I’ve already been warned not to discuss that with you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Narcissa paced back and forth across the entrance hall to her son’s home, the sound of her heels click-clacking against the marble flooring echoing around the room. She wasn’t used to being summoned anywhere at this time in the morning, never mind being left to wait. It made her anxious. And Narcissa Black did not approve of being anxious. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She slipped her hand inside her cloak and removed a gold pocket watch with a delicate chain attached. With deft fingers she flicked the lid open and glared at the hands of the watch as they showed it to now be ten past the hour. The lid snapped shut with a satisfying click and she slid the watch back inside her robes before resuming her pacing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually Draco appeared at the other end of the corridor, ascending the stairs from the lower floor. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and his usually impeccable blonde hair was ruffled and dirty looking. Narcissa raised an eyebrow in concern but her son waved it off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Apologies Mother, we had a bit of a breakthrough with one of the new potions and time got away with me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And that explains your attire...how, exactly?” she gave his rumpled shirt a look that would have made a flower wilt. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Draco looked down at the offending article and a small grin pulled at his lips. “Finnegan still hasn’t got the hang of stopping things from exploding.” He said ruefully. “Do you want tea? I can ask Poggy to have some sent to the sun room if you like.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tea would be…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>A poor replacement</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Delightful, thank you.” Narcissa replied, following her son through the grand house into the pleasingly warm sun room at the rear. Despite it being a dreary day outside, this room always provided a bit of warmth and comfort. It was probably her favourite room of his home really.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She folded herself into an over padded chair and waited whilst her son directed the tiny house elf. When Draco took a seat opposite her he, thankfully, didn’t dawdle in his explanation for summoning her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, I’ve heard back from some of my associates in the business. It seems like Granger is currently a resident of St Twyven’s Retreat. Hence her appearance at the addiction group. It’s their one link to the community, but otherwise they’re not allowed outside contact until the rehabilitation is complete.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Narcissa nodded and took a sip of the tea that had just popped into existence before them. This much she had figured out on her own, the group Ms Granger had appeared with all wore the same outfits after all. She gestured for Draco to continue, sensing he had found out a bit more than that piece of basic information.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, well,” Draco continued, clearing his throat, still unsure about why his mother really needed this information. “The general indications I’m getting are… Well these are just whispers mind, so I don’t know how much truth there is behind them! But the general thought is that Granger has been dabbling in some experimental potion making. She’s been asking around for all sorts of hard to get ingredients and…” He paused for a second. This next bit of information he had heard from a particularly nasty associate of his and he wasn’t sure he wanted to believe what had been said. “She’s been buying some very large quantities of Dreamless Sleep. There’s a suggestion that’s she’s trying to replicate something the muggles do but in potion form. And whatever that was led to her spending a rather significant period in St Mungo’s.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“An experiment gone wrong? It hardly seems a reason to end up in a rehab facility.” Narcissa probed. There was something her son was withholding from her. “What else is there?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s apparently a bit of a pattern. But it’s been kept very quiet, naturally. This latest admission to St Mungo’s wasn’t her first. It was her seventh.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So... Now that I've actually posted the right version of the chapter - hello! It's me again!</p>
<p>I hope you're all still enjoying this, even though not a huuuuuuge amount happened in this chapter. I promise the next one will be a bit more *event-y* as it'll be from the very next day (which, as anyone who has memorised Hermione's timetable like I have will know, is a Thursday!)</p>
<p>For anyone wondering why the hell I'm not updating the Worth Saving series, worry not. I've been thinking about it all day which is generally a very good sign that I might start doing something with it so... watch this space? :D</p>
<p>My thanks as always to you lovely folks who leave me kudos, comments, and generally bully me. You're all wonderful!</p>
<p>P.S. leave me your recommendations for cissamione and bellamione fics if you have any. I need new reading material to carry me through the long winter nights.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter Five - You Can't Make Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! I'm back again!</p>
<p>This chapter is, as promised, a bit more event-y (which is a legitimate word, don't come for me). Hope you all enjoy :D</p>
<p>Bet_on_Black</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> “I think we should do it.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Do what, darling?” The blonde looked up from her book and smiled at the witch in the oversized painter’s shirt. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Paint it.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “We have magic for that, dearest.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Hermione rolled her eyes and draped herself in Narcissa’s lap, making sure to place the book somewhere safe beforehand. “Yes but won’t it be more fun if we do it together?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> A wicked grin spread across Narcissa’s face and she leaned in close, moving strands of brown hair to the side. “I didn’t realise there was such a thing as erotic painting, but you have my interest now.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Cissy!” Hermione blushed. “That’s not at all what I mean! Behave yourself!” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Hmm...” she murmured against Hermione’s neck. “Make me…” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Eric, the man who had first shown her around St Twyven’s, was standing in the door with his arms crossed, with a tired look of exasperation on his face as the young witch ranted at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know how much clearer I can make it, really, I don’t! But I absolutely won’t be compelled into going. I’m not going and you can’t make me!” Hermione finished with a stamp of her bare foot on the carpeted floor, resulting in a thoroughly underwhelming thump. She crossed her arms and glared at Eric, daring him to change her mind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Instead of trying to convince her though he just sighed and replied “If that’s what you want to do Hermione, you’re right. I can’t make you. And I won’t. You’re perfectly at liberty to refuse treatment at any time. The whole point of our programme is that you get better in your own time and in a way that suits you. However, you will need to attend more sessions at some point. We have a Ministry mandated requirement to prove you can interact with the community without there being an adverse effect.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The witch glowered at him from behind a mess of brown curls, her eyebrows knitting together in a frown. “I… I don’t have to go today but I have to go at some point? How many times? Does it have to be that group? And why do I have to prove I can interact with the community? I came here voluntarily!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eric ran a hand through grey streaked hair and leant against the doorframe. “I know you came here voluntarily but once you’re in the programme we either release you with a clean bill of health or return you to St Mungo’s. The Ministry says that in order for us to release you, or anyone else for that matter, you’ll need to complete at least one hundred hours of therapy, forty of those hours need to be in a community setting. I’m sure there are other groups out there but this one is the one we’re partnered with.” He gave her a curious look. "Is it Lovegood you have an issue with? We've always found her to be very good."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hermione shook her head. Luna was undoubtedly the best thing about that group! "No, it's not her. Luna is wonderful, I went to school with her. I just…" she turned from Eric and walked towards the window to look out across the grounds. "I just don't think I'm ready for community therapy yet. I think I'd be better working on things here."</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>There was simply not enough hangover potion in the world to deal with Andromeda and her nonsense today, Narcissa thought as her sister all but dragged her through the bustling streets of central London. She almost wished she'd downed the whole bottle of the stuff before coming out because not being able to apparate straight to the meeting was proving to be painful. Not just for her head but for her feet as well. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Despite her hangover Narcissa was, as always, impeccably dressed. She looked more like she was going to a business meeting with the manager of a bank than to an AA meeting. A powder blue pencil skirt with a matching blazer over a white chiffon blouse, all paired with a set of perilously tall stilettos. This was the kind of outfit Narcissa Black thought was suitable for mingling with other addicts. On any normal day this might have been acceptable. But today Andromeda had decided, due to her sister’s hangover, they should travel to the meeting by muggle public transport so as to not deplete their magic any more than was necessary. As a result of this, Narcissa had nearly thrown up on the underground, hexed a hapless guard at the station for trying to help her through the barriers, and was now cursing her sister for making them walk the remaining distance to the meeting. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Andromeda!” she hissed and the woman striding ahead of her. “These heels are made for admiring, not for walking! Why couldn’t we have stayed on the accursed underground another stop instead of walking across half of bloody London?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andromeda spun on the spot, choosing to walk backwards along the street rather than stop. “Hmm… Let me think…” She adopted a look of mock thoughtfulness, finger tapping against her chin as she continued her backwards journey down the street. “Perhaps because you keep on referring to it as ‘the accursed underground’ instead of the Tube like any normal Londoner? Or maybe because you looked like you were about to spew in an old woman’s tartan shopping trolley? Ooooor is it simply because sometimes walking is faster than hopping on and off trains?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Narcissa merely glared at her and continued walking. She refused to admit Andromeda might actually have a point. Not about the walking, obviously, but she may have seriously contemplated using the tartan trolley as a receptacle of sorts. She was almost relieved when they finally reached their destination, an old muggle church hall, but that feeling was immediately filled with trepidation as the pair of them entered. Her eyes swept the room as soon as they were through the door, searching for any sign of the bushy haired witch. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It wasn't that she wanted to see her. Certainly not! She just didn't want to be surprised again. And she certainly didn't want to end up sat across from the young witch again. No, she just wanted to be aware of her at all times so that she could remain suitably out of sight. It was really for the sake of both of them that she did it, she tried to convince herself, it would save them both a world of pain if they could just make it through these sessions without seeing each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As it was, the minutes ticked by, the participants from St Twyven’s filed in in their matching outfits, and there was no sign of the bushy haired witch. Narcissa opted to stay at the edge of the hall whilst the others mingled at the table with tea and coffee or spoke in twos and threes. Across the hall she could see her sister talking animatedly with the leader of their therapy group, the Lovegood girl, Andromeda’s hands gesticulating wildly as she spoke. She kept having to sweep her eyes across the rest of the room, certain that she'd somehow missed the mass of frizzy hair and sad brown eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After five minutes of idle chatter and a couple of last minute stragglers coming in, the Lovegood girl called for everyone to gather in their cliché chair circle. Narcissa sauntered over to the group and opted to take a set beside her sister this time. A choice she quickly regretted when she heard Andromeda continuing her conversation with Luna regarding the correct fertilizer to use for dirigible plums. She swore her sister could find even the most inane of topics interesting. The others took their places, meaning the plum conversation drew to a close and Narcissa was permitted a small moment of relief before Luna stood up to start the meeting proper.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Like last time, they began with the round the circle proclamations of addictions. Narcissa said hers rapidly, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the group this time, and sat back down just as quickly. Andromeda gave her leg a gentle squeeze before standing up to inform the group, almost proudly Narcissa thought, of her addiction. Her stance was tall, back straight, head held high. She really did resemble Bellatrix at times. Not that Bella would ever have admitted any kind of weakness. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> “Blacks don’t have weaknesses, Cissy. We are perfect the way we are. And anyone who says any different or even </em> thinks <em> it will feel the pointy end of our wands!” Bella stood proudly in front of the mirror, head held high and admiring her features as a young Narcissa stood off to the side and nodded solemnly. Mother said exactly the same so it must be true.  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Narcissa shook the memory from her head and noticed Andromeda was still standing, informing the group further about her addiction. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I guess it’s a family weakness, really. My sister and I both have our issues and I’m sure none of you need reminding of our other sister’s predilections… Perhaps it comes from our childhood experiences? Mother was always very harsh on us if we showed any sign of weakness. That kind of pressure in our formative years, well, it’s bound to have an impact isn’t it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Narcissa’s hand tightened around her wand, which she hadn’t noticed had slipped into her hand, and tried not to listen to her sister. Andromeda had always been a waffler, even when they were children.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Don’t listen to her idle prattle, Cissy.” Bellatrix wrapped a protective arm around her youngest sister and pulled her tight as she glared across the room at the still talking Andromeda. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “But don’t you see, Bella? The things they say about them, they’re not true! Muggles aren’t all that different to us, they just don’t have magic. If you would just come with me to meet Ted’s family you’d see!” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Don’t!” Bella spat at her sister, her long fingernails digging painfully into Narcissa’s arm at the same time. “Don’t you dare speak that foul Mudblood’s name in this house, ‘Dromeda! He’s filth and you soil yourself just by speaking about him, never mind anything else you might do with him!”  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> She spun Narcissa round to face her, forcefully grabbing her arm again once they were face to face. Her harsh features softening as she took in Narcissa’s scared face. “Cissy, you understand, don’t you? We’re special, you and I, ‘Dromeda too if she comes back to us from this moment of madness. We’re purebloods. That means we’re better. We’re perfect. Not a single flaw between us, you understand? Don’t ever let anyone tell you any different.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her wand was vibrating in her hand and she had to still the shaking with her other hand. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on her breathing as Andromeda’s chair scraped next to her. The witch leant over and touched her arm lightly. “Cissy, are you okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shut up, Andromeda.” Narcissa hissed out the side of her mouth. “Just shut up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The retreat was strangely quiet once the other residents had departed via the portkey. Not that the other residents were noisy as such but they were people and people always made noise. Hermione padded barefoot down the main hall from her room, enjoying the cool feel of the wooden floor beneath her feet. She hadn’t taken much time before to really explore the place but now seemed an ideal opportunity, no one would be staring at her as she walked on by. She hated how everyone seemed to stare at her now. Not just here but outside too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That was part of the problem with life after the war. Wherever she went people would look and stare. She knew it wasn’t in a bad way, people thought of her as a hero of sorts, but it felt like it was never ending. Like she couldn’t get a moment alone. She didn’t know how Harry had ever coped with it. Whenever she’d asked him he’d just shrugged his shoulders and smiled weakly at her. <em> “You get used to it.” </em> He’d said. <em> “Besides, I always had you and Ron. So it never mattered what anyone else was doing.” </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Well she’d tried that. Relying on Ron and Harry. And it had worked for a while; but then the war trials had wrapped up and she’d gone with the boys and Ginny to Australia to find her parents and restore their memories. Her parents had been less than pleased with her memory charm, naturally, but they’d encouraged her to go back to Hogwarts to finish up, promising they’d be back in England by the time she was done. When she’d finished there, well, it was kind of difficult to go back to normal once everyone looked at you like some kind of hero. Her and Ron had gotten a place together, just a small flat, nothing special, but it was a place of their own. Somewhere no one could stare and for a while that was alright.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She found herself standing in the open reception area, her feet having taken her there without thinking, and she was sorely tempted to just walk out the door and be done with the retreat. There was another combination of potions she’d been meaning to try before she’d ended up here. A mix of dreamless sleep and a chemical formulation of her own design, based around a muggle party drug she’d come across one night. If she walked out of here now no one would notice she was gone for another couple of hours. That would surely be enough time to get her supplies together and try it, right? She reached out a hand to the door handle, just to see if it would open.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hermione!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hermione’s hand jerked back from the handle and spun round, heart hammering, to face a cheerful looking Gareth. He gave her a wave once he placed the mop and bucket he’d been carrying down on the floor. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t realise anyone was still about. I thought you’d all be away at the group therapy in London today!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh.” Hermione replied, choosing to focus on the mop bucket at Gareth’s feet rather than his face. “I’m uh, I’m not really feeling up to the group therapy in London right now. It’s all a bit much, you know? I get sick from the portkey and then barely recover during the meeting to then have to portkey back. It’ll probably get better once I’m out of the withdrawal stage.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gareth shuffled a bit and nudged the bucket with his foot, causing Hermione to look up at him. He gave her another one of his wide grins in return. “Makes sense. I’ve never much liked portkeys. Prefer to fly if I can.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh god, no!” Hermione replied, hand flying up to her chest at the thought of it. “I’ve always hated flying, I’d be worse than useless if I had to fly anywhere! I can barely ride a Thestral without throwing up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man laughed, a deep throaty chuckle that reminded her of one of the Weasley brothers, Charlie perhaps. “You’ve ridden a Thestral? Honestly, I’ll never stop being amazed by the things you and your lot got up to during the war. Fancy some company whilst the others are out? I’m off to give the day room a mop but you’re more than welcome to join me if you don’t mind the smell of bleach?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hermione raised an eyebrow but followed him as he picked up the bucket and mop and walked through to the day room. “Bleach? I don’t often hear wizards talk about bleach for cleaning. It’s more of a muggle thing.” She said, taking a perch on one of the tables that were stacked off to the side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gareth chuckled again, filling the bucket with water from his wand and then grabbing a bottle of bleach from a locked cabinet and adding some to the water. “True, but I’m a mix of both, so I like to do things a bit differently. Best of both worlds if you get me?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The brunette witch graced him with a smile and nodded. She had always thought there was no replacement for elbow grease, despite most in the magical world preferring the easier, magical shortcuts. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So,” Gareth began as he dunked the mop in the bucket with the bleach mix and then directed his wand to set the mop to work on Hermione’s side of the room whilst he stacked up chairs on the other. “Taking the opportunity to survey the place whilst everyone’s out, I take it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Hermione replied quietly, hoping that Gareth hadn’t noticed how quickly she had retracted her hand from the front door. “I’ve only really been outside my room for the scheduled activities. It’s always been a bit… <em> much </em> at other times, you know?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gareth hummed in response, directing the mop round to his side of the room as he himself perched on a table across the room from Hermione. “I can get that. I sometimes felt that about Hogwarts sometimes too. It was always so loud and busy during the day. I much preferred it at night, not that I was meant to be out, of course.” He grinned at her and ruffled his hair. It stuck up at odd angles and something about it stirred a memory in the back of Hermione’s mind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey… Just when did you finish up at Hogwarts?” She asked, trying to keep a hold of the fuzzy memory that was forming.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Two years ago.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So you would have been there when I went back for my final year?” Hermione questioned as her mind gave her the image of a slightly younger version of Gareth with the same oddly angled ruffled hair, standing in a stairwell looking up at her with wide eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gareth bowed his head as a pink tinge formed on his cheeks. “Yeah, we uh, we met one night I think.” He offered up with another of his small grins.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I just about hexed you!” Hermione exclaimed with a gasp, bringing her hand up to her face in shock. “You were wandering about on the seventh floor at three in the morning! You scared the absolute crap out of me!” She laughed and lowered her hand again. “Hufflepuff, right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You got me in one!” Gareth laughed in return. “The Hufflepuff in the night… I thought I was done for when you turned your wand on me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Am I really that intimidating?” Hermione asked, voice small and worried.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“At three AM when you’ve just been startled? Absolutely! I mean, I was kind of star struck to be honest. And scared shitless that you would dob me in to McGonagall or Sprout for being out of bed and wandering the corridors so late.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was out of bounds too, you know!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ha! Like anywhere was out of bounds for you once you got back. You saved Hogwarts! You could walk right into the Ministry of Magic at that time and no one would bat an eye.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hermione snorted in amusement. “I doubt that. I’m not sure the Minister has quite forgiven me for turning down his job offer after the war. He might have something to say about me wandering the Ministry in the dead of night. It’s good to know I wasn’t the only one who found Hogwarts a bit overwhelming though. After everything that happened there it always felt somewhat odd to be back that year.” She glanced up at the young man across from her and made a split second decision to trust him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Truth is, I’ve not really felt at home in the magical world for a while now. There’s something about it, like the colours are drained or something. Everything used to be so vibrant and new and exciting. Now… Well, now just getting through the day feels like a struggle. Things are either too much or not enough at all. There’s no balance to it! Just when I think I can make it through the day something will appear and throw everything out of whack. And the horrible thing? It could be literally anything! I mean, just the other day at that meeting I thought I saw Bellatrix Lestrange and I freaked out. It was only Andromeda, but my mind still made that jump. And then, just when I thought I was over that, I turn around and see Narcissa Black glaring me down across the bloody room!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her hands found each other and wrung themselves in consternation. “That’s why I’m not there today…” She said quietly, her voice sounding small and unsure. “I keep thinking that if I see them it’ll happen again.” </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The silence that surrounded the pair once the great oak doors had closed behind them was deafening. The blonde witch stood poker straight, facing away from her, hands clenching and unclenching at her sides, her shoulders rising sharply with each breath. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andromeda knew she would instantly regret it but still pressed ahead and asked “Are you alright, Cissy? You seem a little tense?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Narcissa Black was not one for outbursts of emotion, even when it felt like flames of fury were coursing through her very veins, her face would always remain calm. Which is why, when Andromeda saw the creases between Narcissa’s eyebrows and the curl of her lips, she ducked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A crack of red light whipped out from Narcissa’s wand as she spun on the spot, only just missing Andromeda’s wild hair as it shot over her and sizzled into the doors behind her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tense?!” Narcissa snarled at her, wand still directed at where Andromeda had been standing mere moments before. Her eyes darted down to her crouching sister, who was eyeing her warily, like a rabbit being watched by a bird of prey. “Why would I be tense, Andromeda? Perhaps because you felt it necessary to go informing a room of strangers about our past and our family?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andromeda stood slowly, her own wand slipping into her hand in case she needed to cast a shield. “It’s <em> therapy </em>, Narcissa! That’s what people do!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We are not people, Andromeda, we’re <em> Blacks </em>! Blacks don’t go spilling their business everywhere to any Tom, Dick, or Harry who asks!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The elder black sister threw her hands up in frustration. “Honestly, Narcissa, you’re starting to sound like Bellatrix.” She threw her head back and put on a disturbingly good impression of their long dead sister. “<em> We’re Blacks, Andy. Noble and Most Ancient. Do you know how a family gets to be Noble and Most Ancient? By keeping it in the family. Nothing leaves this family, Andy, </em> nothing <em> .” </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Strange that you can remember her words so clearly and yet simultaneously forget them in order to tell a room full of strangers all about our childhood!” Narcissa ran a hand through her hair and gripped the banister to prevent herself from firing another curse across the hall. She already wanted a drink but she knew that summoning a bottle would only spur her sister into a further bout of insufferable chatter about how it was <em> good to talk these things out </em>. She was shaking now, and she knew she was on the precipice of saying something she would regret.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well maybe I want to get better, Narcissa!” Andromeda retorted, riffling through her bag for something, anything that might make her feel better for a second.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“In what world does telling a group of addicts about our past help? What the bloody hell does our childhood have to do with any of our problems now, Andromeda? It won’t bring Nymphadora back, if that’s what you’re thinking!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Silence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She was met with silence and a dead eyed stare from her sister as she stopped searching in her bag, choosing to let it fall to the floor with a loud <em> thump </em>. They could both feel the angry crackle of magic in the air between them, it was just waiting for something to spark, to ignite it.</p>
<p><br/>After a minute of tense, deadly quiet Andromeda broke the silence with a whispered “And drinking yourself to death won’t change the fact that you’re an <em> unlovable, heartless cow </em>."</p>
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